


this night forever (no morning will come)

by GoddessOfTheVoid



Series: short multifandom ficlets [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Cursed Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Curses, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Nightmares, Open to Interpretation, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Visions in dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28216308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessOfTheVoid/pseuds/GoddessOfTheVoid
Summary: As Jaskier roams the continent on his own, strange dreams and visions seem to plague him, guiding him to a place where he has to make a difficult choice.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: short multifandom ficlets [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629358
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	this night forever (no morning will come)

**Author's Note:**

> this was written in a day in an attempt to get my angst groove back and hopefully finish part 2 of 'in this realm' soon. it was inspired by the [Prompt of the Witcher Quick Fic Challenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TWQF02) but I couldn't meet the deadline so I'm posting this separately.
> 
> title and verse at the end taken from the song "love me to the end" by deine lakaien ([listen to it here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uUn19ajnJc8)). and as always english is not my first language so please be kind.

The first time he awoke in panic he did not know why; or what happened to cause this.

He had no remembrance of a bad dream or any of that sort. Nor was anyone sharing his room or being close to him to be the possible source of such an anxious feeling.

He was all alone.

Only his racing heart and confusion being the testament that _something_ had happened.

Whatever it was, he decided to shrug it off, not wanting to dwell in it any longer.

It was just a normal bad dream, nothing more.

It was not like he could figure out what had happened. Not when there was nothing but emptiness in his head, nothing but the feeling of something he couldn’t yet place.

For once he had the luxury of a roof over his head and he hoped to make the best out of it, curling up beneath the scratchy sheets.

It was not the most comfortable bed he’d slept in, in fact in was hard and the room was cold. But it was a bed nevertheless.

Something that would always remain preferable to the cold ground and the freezing wind awaiting him outside.

Fortunately, it didn’t take him too long to fall back asleep, once his heart stopped racing and he was certain that there was no one or nothing special that had caused him to wake up in the first place.

The next time he awoke in panic he did not have a roof over his head. 

Cold forest air entering his lungs as he wheezed for breath. And a cacophony of noises around him.

He found himself missing the quietness of the inn, the protection of stone walls against what was lurking in the darkness.

He curled into himself under his cloak, trying to make himself as small as possible, as unnoticeable as possible.

And yet he could not shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Or something.

_It’s just an animal,_ he tried to tell himself. Nothing but a harmless animal.

No predators.

_Oh please don’t let it be a predator._

He could do nothing but hope there was no monster nearby, not when he was helpless and alone.

It was moments like this where he missed Geralt’s company. The protection of a Witcher in the deep dark woods. Providing safety to him.

If Geralt had been here he would have felt safe and protected. If Geralt had been here, he could have focused on his breathing, could have listened to it until he calmed down and fell back asleep.

But Geralt wasn’t there.

Geralt would never be there again.

And he needed to get used to it, as he continued on his path.

Day by day.

Town by town.

It all blurred.

And he kept dreaming.

The third time it happened he wasn’t surprised anymore. The element of shock was long gone.

What he was left with was the lingering anxiety of something bad waiting to happen.

Something he could not stop or prevent.

It weighed on his soul, this unstoppable feeling of unease as he continued on this path. All alone, without a purpose or direction.

This time the dream was clearer. This time he remembered something, bits and pieces he could not connect.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some hidden meaning, a message he needed to understand.

And yet he could not figure it out.

Not yet.

But he had the feeling that he would be able to sooner or later.

As if all of this was building up to something bigger.

He kept dreaming.

Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming.

Someone was following him.

Or something.

He couldn’t tell.

But it was coming closer and closer to him with each dream he had.

A faint silhouette at first, a shape of darkness behind him. Trailing through the woods in a steady pace behind him.

He could not outrun it.

Dream after dream. Until he noticed more and more.

A tall figure, dark mist in a vaguely human shape, chasing him with an intricate dagger in its hand.

It was beautiful. Such a contrast to the void that was holding it.

He could make out all its details, the engravings on it, the gems adorning it.

It seemed important. But for what?

He couldn’t tell.

And neither did that thing.

It didn’t speak. It only followed.

With each dream came more details, this thing continuing to follow him, the dagger in its hand. It seemed almost as if it was pushing him into a certain direction.

And he kept walking through the barren wasteland, trying to reach whatever that thing wanted him to find.

Through burned houses and rotten crops, heading straight into the abandoned ruin of the castle in his mind.

There was nowhere else he could go. Nowhere but follow it’s strange directions.

He walked at night, he walked during the day, until he reached familiar places, until he found a burned down village, ravaged by war that looked oh so similar to the one he had visited in his dreams.

And a lord’s manor.

Derelict halls with dried blood on the rotten floorboards and the smell of burnt flesh still lingering in what was left of this place.

_Is this where I need to be?_ He asked himself.

_What was the purpose of this place_ , he thought as he walked through the abandoned rooms, the floor creaking beneath his feet.

The purpose was obvious once he found it.

In the middle of the hallway.

A lifeless body, black armor and white hair.

“ _Geralt”_ , he whispered into the cold air but there was no response.

Of course there wasn’t.

Geralt looked near death.

Black veins of poison marking his pale skin as he laid there in peace.

Or was it really peace?

He’d long lost the belief that death equaled peace.

Sometimes it was just agony.

Then again was Geralt really dead?

Would that thing lead him to a corpse?

He looked _like_ death, but not dead exactly.

Death looked differently. Rotten corpses and a putrid stench.

He had seen enough of them. Enough corpses to recognized one when it laid beneath his feet.

There were no such markings on Geralt.

At most he looked asleep, frozen in time.

His body bound to this place.

A curse.

Of course. It had to be a curse.

There was no other expectation for the sight he had.

A trap Geralt had walked into, one he was unable to free himself from.

_Why do you even care? Why do you care after what he’s done to you?_

That was a good question indeed.

Why did he care so much?

Why did he care after all that Geralt had done to him, had said to him on that mountain?

_Because you still love him. Because you would still do everything possible to help him. Because you’re a hopeless romantic._

The truth tasted bitter on his lips.

Someone had wanted him to go to this place, to find Geralt.

That much was obvious.

All those dreams, all his visions. The void with the dagger.

All of it to push him here.

But who was it?

Had it been Geralt himself? From the prison of his mind? Or someone else?

He could sense the familiar shadow behind him, having long lost his fear from it. If it wanted to harm him it would have done it by now.

He could see the void of darkness from the corner of his eyes, scarily removing any source of light from where it stood.

“You have a choice,” it said and he startled. 

It had never spoken before and its voice sent shivers down his spine.

It was otherworldly.

Almost as if it did not belong here, into their world.

“This is no choice.”

“Oh but it is, you can go. Leave this place and never come back. Forget about him and live your life.”

“And what about him?”

“So you do care. Interesting.”

“Since when does wanting information equal care?”

“If you didn’t care you would have left. If you didn’t care you would have seen this opportunity as closure.”

_Closure_. He would have laughed if it didn’t sound utterly pathetic.

“Choose,” it demanded, “a life in peace or a life with him. You can only have one of them.”

_A life in peace._

Peace, peace, peace.

How pathetic.

There would be no peace for him if he left, he knew it.

He couldn’t go.

He couldn’t leave Geralt.

Not when he was a prisoner.

This was not a choice. Not really. More of a trap perhaps.

Someone wanted him, and with an intricate plan, they had him exactly where they wanted him. Using his one weakness.

If it wasn’t so pathetic he would have laughed.

Wherever Geralt was, he needed to save him, or try at least, even when he failed eventually.

They could figure it out.

Together they would break whatever curse had befallen him.

That was his choice.

And it would always be the same.

It held out the dagger for him. And he took it, ready to join Geralt in whatever cursed place he was. At least together they would perhaps have a chance to fix this. Or spend eternity together in a cursed barren land.

Not that it was any worse than his current reality.

He made his choice.

With shaking fingers he picked up the dagger, the engraved bronze sparkling in the candle light. It was mesmerizing, mysterious words he would never be able to understand.

Not that it mattered much.

Not when there was no other option left.

He made his choice, not that he was really able to call it that.

But that didn’t matter either.

There was no choice in love.

There was no choice in devotion.

There was no world for him without Geralt in it. 

Thus he needed to join him, thus he needed to get him back.

Closing his eyes he raised his hands, gripping the dagger tightly, before plunging it down.

Into nothingness. 

Into the curse of a different world.

_this man pursues you, a dagger in his hand_

_yet he will never get into our land_

_love me, love me, till the end_


End file.
